


The only Language you can Speak

by HeadcaseCraziness



Series: Languages [1]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: M/M, Minor Violence, POV Linhardt von Hevring, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Pre-Relationship, Sadist Hubert von Vestra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:48:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28742010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeadcaseCraziness/pseuds/HeadcaseCraziness
Summary: Pre-relationship Linbert with Hubert being his usual threatening violent self and Linhardt has never heard curiosity killed the cat.
Relationships: Linhardt von Hevring & Hubert von Vestra
Series: Languages [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2110848
Kudos: 8





	The only Language you can Speak

**Author's Note:**

> Late drabble. Maybe more to come. Not sure. Pre-relationship Linbert, with Vestra being his usual dark violent self. Warning since he is violent towards Linhardt. No blood or broken bones.

The Monastery Library is quiet. 

It usually is at this hour, not many individuals use it these days and when they did it was in the hours of Sunlight... Certainly not the silent seclusion of night.

Linhardt sits in his favourite spot, tucked away from the rest of the Library, and reviews the five books open in front of him. The area was beyond dark at this time, even the Moonlight chose not to shine through the painted glass window, yet the well-placed candles he had brought provide him with just enough light to see.

He glances over his first two tomes on rare Crests before his eyes scan over the next three medical and anatomy texts. He bites the end of his quill as decides where he should put his focus next, only to spit out bits of feather when he realises what he had done.

He never hears the near-silent footfalls as the figure approaches, nor notices the shadowy presence that looms over him as he is far too engrossed in his reading. It is only after he hears a deep breath very close to his ear, he looks up and blanchs as they stand over him.

He freezes, staring up at the figure enveloped in gloom as if the shining light from the candles refuse to touch them.

A flash of a sharp-toothed smile in the darkness as the intruder clearly notices his shock makes Linhardt gulp as words abandon him. Should he fight or run... Or maybe he should scream? He doesn’t know as he is still unable to move as his body was locked up in fear.

“And here I thought this spot would be vacant...” They mutter far closer than Linhardt would have liked. Their breath brushing against wisps of his hair, moving them out of place.

Wait... _What_? 

It takes a moment as he realises the figure means him no harm and then that he recognises that voice; smooth yet sharp at the edges and often quite dangerous, depending on the circumstances.

Hubert von Vestra

Of course, only bloody Vestra would try to unnerve someone by simply standing next to them.

“Oh, Hubert, don’t frighten me like that!” There was no point hiddening that fact, but he could at least try to scold their behaviour just a bit, Minister or not.

“That wasn’t my intention.” Hubert utters, still far too close for Linhardt’s liking, but his attention seems to be on the various tomes set around the Scholar.

“Sure it wasn’t...” He growls back, the other had clearly known what they were doing. There had been no need for making Linhardt almost jump out of his own skin.

“Still... you should be more observant of your surroundings, von Hevring. Who knows what lurks in the darkness...?” He moves away, finally out of Linhardt’s personal space.

“Clearly it’s you, Hubert. Now, if you don’t mind I’m obviously busy.” He huffs as the other grins at his words.

“Ah, yes. I have some reading of my own as it were... I’ll find another place.”

It is only now the Scholar notices that Hubert has a large, dusty text half-hidden under his arm and an unlit lantern in his other hand.

He sighs, he should let them go on their way but even if Hubert was an annoyance... Linhardt could use the company, someone to bounce his ideas and findings off. If the other would let him, of course.

He sighs, brushing his hair behind his ear from where it had fallen.

"No. You’re here now. Just sit, Hubert.”

The other raises a thin brow. “Oh? I won’t disturb your little Crest _pet-project_ then?” 

He gaze narrows into a glare. His work wasn’t a little pet-project. He starts to regret even considering to let the other stay but he had already told them to sit. 

“Like I said, Hubert. _I’m busy,_ but you can stay if you wish. Do get that lamp on though, some of my candles are getting low.” In the corner of his eye an abforementioned candle goes out.

Hubert takes a moment to consider his words before rounding the table and placing his tome lightly on the tabletop. He wipes away the dust from the cover with a hankerchief before setting the lantern down. With a click of his fingers it ignites, a steady stream of light coming through its orange and purple panes. He removes his cape, draping it over his chair, and slowly sinks into the seat opposite Linhardt as his gleaming golden eyes give a quick sweep over the area, evaluating but cautious.

“The only person that has been hiding in the dark is you, Hubert. No one else comes in at this time.”

Hubert hums as his eyes settle on the man in front of him. “One can never be too careful... Our enemies are vast and we are at war. Do not forget that, Hevring.”

Linhardt scoffs, rolling his eyes, as he relights the candle that had gone out with a quick touch. 

“You worry too much. I don’t think anyone can sneak up on you. You’re too paranoid.”

“I’d rather be paranoid than _dead..._ ” He mutters quietly, his gloved fingers gently turning over the cover. The conversation ends with that as Hubert leafs through the tome and Linhardt goes back to his own research.

An hour drifts by and then another as the night draws on, the only sounds being the turn of old pages, the scratch of quill on parchment and the odd mutter as one or the other outwardly verbalises their thoughts. Yet, Linhardt finds the company acceptable, Caspar could never just sit and read next to him. He would always fidget. 

Linhardt grins as he comes to the realisation that he seems to be the only one turning pages, that Hubert must have been staring at the same two pages for well over an hour. A quick glance up confirms his suspicions, Hubert’s usually ramrod-straight posture is slumped and he leans his fist against his cheek, his brow funnelled and lips twisted in concentration or possibly confusion. His gloved finger skims along the printed sentences as gold eyes glare at them, as if fear itself would make them reveal their meaning.

“Are you alright, Hubert? Something giving you trouble?” He tries not to smirk through his words, seeing Hubert with his defenses lowered is quite intriguing, if not funny.

“No. I’m fine.” They near enough growl in response.

“That’s a no then. Would you like assisstance? Sometimes I find another mind can see things I have not. Though, it is rare I miss things...” 

He had been curious on what Hubert was reading before, if just a little, especially since it had stumped him as it were. If Linhardt had to say something kind about the other man it was that he had a quick and analytical mind. He could respect that in him, and seeing him confused was frankly odd.

“I said _I’m fine._ ”

“We both know I’m not that stupid enough to believe that lie. I thought you were meant to be good at swaying the truth.” He yawns as he levels him with a bored stare.

“I don’t need your help, Hevring. That’s _final_.” He pulls the tome onto his lap in a rather childish attempt to stop Linhardt trying to read it from across the table.

“Suit yourself...” 

He was more curious than ever, as now it was clear Hubert was hiding whatever he was researching. A secret project of his own, maybe even kept from Edelgard, and wouldn’t that be _interesting_. 

He gazes upwards at the low ceiling, large wooden beams running above them to hold up the higher floors, he cracks a sly grin.

An idea forms in his mind. 

If Hubert wasn’t going to show him, he’ll just have to take a peak for himself.

A blink and his viewpoint changes, now he is staring down over Hubert’s shoulder, some few feet above him. He didn’t need to verbalise the spell nor even use the select hand gestures, he had become so accustomed to the Warp spell he only needed to think of a destination and he was there.

Hubert notices his disappearance in an instant, his eyes scanning the darkness beyond what light had been given from the lantern and candles. He pushes himself to his feet, leaving the tome on the tabletop.

“Von Hevring? Where are you?” He whisper-shouts, before pacing into the shadows of the Library. A wave of a hand and the lantern follows him as his footsteps retreat into the open space of the Main Hall. It hovers beside him as if it were a ghostly pet obeying its Master.

“This is no time for games.” Echoes from the far side of the Hall as Linhardt drops down with a quiet groan as a halo of dust falls with him. He picks up a candle to see what the shady Minister had been so damn secretive about.

The title comes into view and he nearly has to stiffle a laugh, it was a very Hubert thing to read.

_A Catalogue of Forbidden and Heretical Rituals, Vol. II._

He knows he should move away, maybe sit back down like nothing had happened, but as he glances into the Main Hall he spots the lantern still floating at the other end. He couldn’t see the other man but really it wasn’t like he could sneak up on him again. He still could hear his rebounding footsteps after all.

“So, what ritual are _you_ so interested in...?” He hums to himself. His finger tracing along the list of select ingredients needed to perform it.

The ingredients enlist: bone, blood and hair of the subject... _Victim_. Even teeth are specified. He feels queasy just from reading that list and still no closer to understanding what the ritual was to entail.

_What in the name of the Goddess was he planning to do?_

Before he could read further, the candle in his hand went out, and yet he didn’t fell a nearby breeze nor had he moved it too quickly.

He shrugs, a fast glance reveals Hubert’s lantern was still some way away but likely returning soon.

He reaches for another candle...

His hand is intercepted, before he can do anything else his body in slammed hard into the tabletop, pinned under a superior weight as he tries to twist away.

A hand threads into his hair and yanks hard. A pained gasp escapes his throat.

“Oh, _here you are._ ” A voice hisses into his ear. He thought about warping away but finds he can not.

He knows it’s Hubert but that does not explain his most severe and violent reaction.

“Hubert... Let me go!” He tries to mask his creeping fear but is unsure he does well.

“Not yet, Linhardt... Could not keep your curiosity to youself, I see.” His voice is poisoned honey; smooth, yet sticky and deadly. 

“I just wanted to help!” His attempt at pulling away only makes the other tighten the grip in his hair.

“I despise people spying on me and my work. What did you think you would achieve with your little stunt? Or are you a spy only now revealing yourself?” He pushes the man below him harder into the table surface.

"If so, you are very stupid to do it now...”

Linhardt can’t hide the pained whimper that claws from his throat.

"Hubert, I’m not a spy. _Please_ , you’re hurting me!” His heart beats a mile a minute, his body trembling under the weight. He needs to get away. They need to stop touching him!

Whatever he said, it works as the hold releases him but only to pull him back and push him roughly into a chair. Hubert towers over him, but this is not the same Hubert he had seen earlier, no... This man is the Imperial Spymaster, the very man that protects the Empire from Fodlan's shadowy and incideous depths, and he is clearly far more dangerous.

He tilts his head to the side in reptillian fashion, he leans closer, his hand grabbing ahold of the trapped Scholar’s neck and lifts his gaze to meet their icy golden-eyed stare that cuts to his very soul. His teeth are twisted into a sharp-toothed snarl but Linhardt knows that the other man was very much enjoying this. 

He gulps.

“Tell me again: what did you hope to achieve with your stupid actions? And be honest now, I hate when those around me are _dishonest_.” 

The grip isn’t choking but it traps him in place and ensures he cannot escape. A shiver racks over his body against his will and squishes his eyes shut. He needs to breathe, just breathe.

His silence clearly isn't the right answer.

“Just tell me the truth... It isn’t that _hard_...” The hand squeezed for effect and Linhardt is left gasping.

“I... I jus-“

“Yes?” He presses, another squeeze that leaves him reeling.

Something wells within him, beyond the fear, it is scolding and molten alike Lava and singes his insides. A fury he had never known until this very moment.

“I just wanted to help you! I saw you were struggling with something... I hate when I feel I’ve hit a wall when I’m researching.

I thought. I. Could. Help!”

Linhardt didn’t realise he was shouting until his breaths become hoarse and the words rebound throughout the Library chamber.

The hand withdraws and Hubert takes a few steps away, hands up in a placating gesture. He says nothing but the look in his eyes seems... _Guilty?_

Linhardt closes his eyes as his body slips from the chair onto the floor and he curls in on himself, focussing on his breathing and calming his mind. 

After a while he speaks, words devoid of emotion, the fury now replaced cold distance. 

“I don’t know who you think you are to treat me like that... I’m meant to be ally. But... If you ever do it again, I’m leaving. I’ll leave the Monastery and you will be the one who has to explain why Edelgard’s favourite Strike Force no longer has it’s Healer.”

He can feel Hubert’s stare on his skin but when his voice fills the air its resigned and quiet, a near whisper.

“I went too far.” He pauses. “I pushed too far, I understand that now and I apologise, Linhardt. I could, but I will not make excuses for my behaviour. I am s-“

“No, Vestra. I don’t want an apology!”

Linhardt growls as he crawls to his feet and stands, shaking away the thoughts of feeling sorry for himself, the mini-maelstorm of emotion that came over him, the shock and the pain he has just endured. He charges into the Hubert’s personal space, jabbing his fist into the other’s chest. 

“I don’t care what you have to say! I only want insurance that you will never... _ever_... do it again. Do you _understand_?!”

Hubert’s stare is blank, his voice far away. “I give my word, Linhardt.”

“Good.” 

With that Linhardt warps away from the Library, sealing himself in his room, slumping to the floor at the foot of his bed and lets an uneasy and fitful sleep take him.

... ... ...

The next night he finds the books he had been reading the one before in a neat stack with their pages book-marked and one other tome amongst them. It is the Catalogue of Rituals Vestra had been reading, a slim piece of paper sticking out, he flips to the marked page to see a note.

The words are small and scribbly as if they didn’t want to seen.

_In case you were still curious._

_Maybe, I did hit a wall._

_I will be in the Library again tomorrow night if you are still interested._

_If not, just leave the book outside my room and we will speak of it no longer._

_**V** _

Linhardt eyes the note wearily but soon shrugs and takes the stack into his room. 

He places the Catalogue on top of the pile.


End file.
